


Reunion II

by itstonedme



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, soft drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Morocco around 2007.  Orlando meets up with Elijah who is on holiday.  Originally posted for Orlijah Month 2008 on LJ <a href="http://orlijah-month.livejournal.com/33721.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion II

Orlando sets down the large leather carry-on in the hallway of the suite and lays his garment bag across the arm of a plush low-slung sofa. “Lij?” he calls out. There’s no answer. He walks though the lushly carpeted rooms, first to the bedroom where not one but two obscenely ornate canopied beds lie sumptuously made, then on to the massive stone and tile bathroom where discarded towels and the decay of steam on smooth surfaces signals recent use. Stopping briefly at one of the mirrors, he runs a hand through his hair to muss it more artfully. “Elijah?” he calls out again as he reenters the bedroom.

He’s here in Essaouira because Elijah wants them to check out a music festival. Correction. He’s here in Essaouira because Elijah is going to check out the music festival and he is going to check out the kite surfing. All of the arrangements for their week long holiday have been left to Elijah, who has preceded his arrival by a day and a half. 

Glancing about the bedroom, he notices rumpled clothes lying across a far chair, sneakers chucked drunkenly beneath it.

Correction. He’s here because Elijah’s here.

“Hobbit!” Orli cries out, crossing the bedroom and rounding a corner that gives way through a second opened doorway back out to the living area. That’s when he comes upon the patio balcony, doors slid fully open, its floor length sheers billowing from the trade winds blowing in off the ocean. 

He finds Elijah, eyes closed, ear plugs inserted and apparently having drifted to sleep, lying on a white lounger in the shade of a towering young tree fern, sunlight stippling his bare chest. Elijah’s wearing what have to be the sheerest white pajama pants he’s ever seen, the gauzy linen doing little to cover his boney knees but probably much to combat the dry coastal heat. An open magazine lies face down across his lap, his eye glasses on the side table beside a lighter and smokes. 

Orlando drops his sunglasses onto his nose and runs a finger up the sole of Elijah’s foot, then stretches out in the full sun on the opposite recliner. He unbuttons his shirt and watches as Elijah rubs a toe along the arch of his foot, then his ankle, eyes flickering open several times before he registers that he’s got company. “Omph,” he manages, which might mean anything. 

“You lazy bastard.”

Elijah smiles, eyes shutting down again and waves a limp wrist. Abruptly, he rubs his face vigorously, eyes blinking wide, then scrubs his scalp and gives his head a shake. “Oh man,” he says, “I’m still catching up on my time change.”

“I see you’ve managed to dress down for the climate.”

“You like?” Elijah grins lazily. “I picked them up in the market yesterday.” Without his glasses, his eyes are softly unfocussed and hooded with languor. Lifting the magazine from his lap, he drops it carelessly beside the divan.

Whatever fashion notions Orlando has previously understood don’t include any to suggest that the sheer gauze ghosting Elijah’s legs should be transparent all the way to the drawstring sitting low upon his hips, revealing dark pubic curls around a slumbering cock. “You little trollop,” Orlando guffaws. “What if the maid were to walk in?”

Elijah angles his face back towards the sun, eyes closing again. “First, the maid’s a he,” he says. “Rashid el Monsour, with an even gappier smile than me. Rashid’s good people, man. He’s a _Rings_ freak, and he fucking loved _Kingdom of Heaven_ without having even seen the director’s cut. Secondly, he uses the intercom outside our door to announce his arrival. It’s quite a system they’ve got here.”

“But can he procure us some hashish?” Orlando waggles his eyebrows.

“Already done.”

“Hobbit of mine,” Orli grins, “you are fucking amazing.”

Elijah opens one eye and looks at him again. “You wanna see amazing? Check this out.” He draws his knees up and lets them fall open. 

Whatever further fashion sensibilities Orlando might possess, they haven’t included crotchless harem pants that reveal the wantonly seductive vision of Elijah’s compact cock and balls. The pang to Orli’s groin is immediate and hotly sweet. 

“Now that’s just lewd,” he smirks, tossing his sunglasses onto the lounger, then scrambling to straddle the foot of Elijah’s recliner. He slides his hands up the diaphanous linen, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along the inside of Elijah’s thighs.

“But highly practical,” Elijah laughs, bracing his feet against Orlando’s thighs, hands dancing lightly along Orli’s forearms and over the rolled up cuffs to the firm curve of biceps. “It allows my naughty bits to take the air, as your mum might say.”

Orlando dips in to nuzzle just below Elijah’s ear. “Let’s leave my mum out of this,” he murmurs, tasting the tenderness of skin that’s been ripening in the sun and salty air. Elijah arches, wriggling with soft laughter at the prickle of beard.

Orlando peers up. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Elijah breathes back, fingers carding through thick curls and waves. They lean in and exchange a series of soft getting-reacquainted kisses, at first close-mouthed but then more lingering until Elijah licks at the split of Orli’s lips and they willingly surrender to his tongue. 

Orlando’s questing thumbs have slipped to the crease of thigh and groin, and when he cups Elijah’s balls they plump happily within his palm, the skin on them crawling with eagerness.

“Oh!” Elijah cries at the tremor that spikes through him, convulsing against Orlando’s shoulder. His heels skitter over Orlando’s thighs before wrapping behind his back and pulling him in. “Oh god,” he keens as jovial camaraderie gives way to something much needier and terribly missed.

“Shhh,” Orlando soothes. He draws him near, cradling Elijah’s head and petting it gently. “We’ve got all week,” he whispers. “I’ve missed you too.”

Elijah drapes his arms around Orlando’s neck, his breathless hungry kisses landing on Orlando’s ear and brow and cheek. “Please,” he sighs. “Take me inside and let’s make lewd.”

Orlando straightens up, scooping his hands beneath Elijah’s bottom, fingers finding the maddeningly absent ass of the maddeningly erotic lounging trousers. “I want a pair,” he says.

Elijah tightens his grip around Orlando’s shoulders and burrows his face into the warmth beneath his collar. “That’s done too,” he breathes. “Don’t think I’m the only one who’s going to walk around here all week with my parts hanging out.” 

Orlando laughs and stands with a grunt, Elijah holding on tightly, and carries him through the open doorway to the bedroom. He drops him on the mattress with a bounce and a giggle and unclasps the watch on one wrist and the leather bracelet on the other, then starts to peel off his shirt. “So show me how they work,” he says, shirt floating idly to the carpet as he toes off his boots.

Elijah crabwalks on elbows and feet up the bed cover to the mountain of pillows against the headboard. “Well, there’s a piece like this,” -- he fingers a placket overlapping at the waist – “in the front and back so that you’re not _gaping_ and the leg part just goes all the way on the inside to your groin,” which he illustrates so that Orlando’s groin pings in response, “and everywhere else up to the waist. Simple, really.”

Orlando leans in and slides a hand into what should be the fly. “Where the hell did you find them?” he asks as his fingers trace the hemmed edges. Elijah throws his head back, his breath catching.

“On a rack in front of a shop.”

A frown forms on Orlando’s face. “What kind of shop?” 

“Well...” Elijah has begun to blush. “I think they’re meant to be worn with panties underneath.”

Orlando stares to him.

“For dancing,” Elijah explains.

“They’re for _belly_ dancing?” Orlando blurts.

“Heh, it works!”

Orlando slides his hand down, curls his fingers around Elijah’s cock, which has plumped up nicely. “Yeah, it does,” he agrees, angling in and pressing his lips to Elijah’s, which open, all wet heat and soft want.

Orlando reluctantly breaks the kiss. “Let me grab a quick shower,” he murmurs and pushes off the mattress.

“No!” Elijah demands, all pouty and still sleep-addled, and he sits up quickly, grabbing at Orlando’s hips, bunching the fabric and tugging him in. “No,” he says more softly, gazing upwards, and he leans into Orlando’s stomach, inhaling the scent rising off his skin. “I like that you smell a little funky,” he says. His tongue dips into Orlando’s navel as his hands skate onto the skin above the waist band. “You taste good today.” 

Orlando braces one hand against the canopy crossbar and curls the other around Elijah’s scalp, dropping his head to watch Elijah nuzzle him. “If that weren’t so sexy, I’d find it a little gross,” he sighs. He likes how Elijah’s hair is growing out, all silky and full. He kneels on the bed, making to stretch out on his side, and Elijah crawls up his chest with him, questing for kisses, finally arriving at Orlando’s lips to find them.

Elijah’s fingers have taken to fumbling at the button of Orlando’s trousers. He peels the zipper and decides to fuck it with finding the fly on the boxers, diving in straight over the waist band. Orlando’s cock jumps at the prospect of Elijah’s hand upon him, then again at the reality as he is taken firmly in one long easy stroke.

“Oh Lij, god, fuck,” he gasps. “Tell me again why we haven’t done this sooner. We’re such idiots.” Elijah’s foot hooks around his trousered thigh, and Orlando settles against him, hips jerking forward in little thrusts.

Elijah’s lips find Orlando’s ear lobe, and he bites down on it gently, toying with teeth and tongue. 

It doesn’t take long before Orlando is diamond hard and wanting more. “I need to get out of these clothes,” he mutters impatiently and pulls away. He slips from the bed while Elijah claws the bed covers back, and rapidly shucks trousers and boxers, then the sock from one foot, next the other, all the while eyes locked on Elijah’s, and they are grinning at each other like loons and fairly trembling with anticipation. Once naked, Orli pounces onto him, and they roll and tumble, petting each other just about everywhere, legs wrapping, hips pressing and laughter breaking out between breathless kisses. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Orlando exhales when they slow down a little. Elijah quickly licks at his lip and kneels beside him, panting, grinning. He runs his fingers along the curve of Orlando’s hip bone, staring at the flushed and rigid cock and he dips down, arms resting against Orlando’s thigh and stomach, taking him deep into his mouth. Orlando arches and wails.

“Lij, Lij,” he grinds out, reaching out to Elijah’s gossamer hip. “Scoot over me. Come on, hurry.” 

Elijah straddles Orlando’s shoulders, pivoting the ninety degrees without his mouth breaking rhyme or rhythm, and Orlando slides his hands up the backs of his thighs, slipping inside the opening that doesn’t gape and smoothing over the cheeks of Elijah’s ass. He seizes the sides of his hips and pulls them down, mouthing Elijah’s balls before catching the head of his cock and letting everything simply glide down between his lips. 

Elijah freezes and then just _shudders_ , a high keening cry caught around the fullness in his mouth, breath puffing through his nostrils. There’s no possible way he can get enough of Orlando, not now, not ever. This is their thing, their secret addiction, the reason that months, even years, can go by and he’ll one day pick up the phone and say, “We’re going to Essaouira” and that’s it. They’ll come together and whatever else has been going on will peel away and they’ll enter this zone that is only theirs. He can’t explain it, he doesn’t want to understand it, it just is. 

They give each other head for a while, reveling in the fact that, yes, this is pretty lewd and feels unbelievably good and tastes better and smells fabulous and then Orlando slides his hand down to grip the root of his cock and he spits Elijah out, panting, “Stop. Fuck Lij, stop, I’m going to lose it.”

Reluctantly, Elijah releases him, dropping a few departing kisses to his length before crawling off and stretching out into the open arm that awaits him. Orlando is flushed and slightly wild-eyed, and he strokes Elijah’s hair and cheek and urgently asks, “Does it matter?”

Essentially, that’s code for _who’s doing whom?_ and Elijah smiles. “Go for it,” he says and rolls over to the bedside table to fish out a small travel bag, pilfering it for lube. And a condom. He holds it up. “Do we need this?” he asks.

Orlando looks at it, then at Elijah. “Not on my account.” 

Smiling sweetly, Elijah flings it over his shoulder, then crawls back into Orlando’s arms. “Do you want me on my knees?” he asks.

Orlando takes the lube and raises up on one elbow, pulling Elijah snug to his chest. He places the tube on Elijah’s tummy and runs his fingers over his forehead, threading his hair and flattening it back. “No, pretty thing,” he whispers. “I want to look at you.” 

Elijah flushes while his heart trip-hammers several beats. He loves it when Orlando gets all seductively sappy on him.

“Should you take these off?” Orlando murmurs, stroking the fabric over Elijah’s thigh. “We’re going to make a mess of them.”

Elijah shakes his head, mumbling something about how quickly they dry in the sun and let’s just go, and he turns to rub his face at where Orlando’s shoulder meets his chest, his tongue reaching out to taste. 

Orlando squirts a generous dollop of lube onto his fingers, smears them, then reaches down to coat Elijah’s cock, his balls and further yet, until a finger finds the nub of his hole and slides in.

“Oh,” Elijah gasps, pressing into Orlando’s shoulder.

“Look at me.”

Elijah’s gaze slips upwards and locks with Orlando’s. 

“Hmm?” Orlando asks, eyebrows rising.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Elijah sighs. Another finger is added, and Elijah reaches down and takes himself in hand, pulling slowly. “Oh man,” he groans, eyes closing.

A third finger is added. “Lij, look at me,” Orlando whispers. 

Blue eyes flash open and a little frown of concentration has formed between them. Orlando leans in and kisses it. 

Elijah is working his hand harder now and little gusts escape his lips. “Orli,” he cries, looking momentarily frantic, chasing the growing exquisite heat in his pelvis, and Orlando just keeps working and curling his fingers on the inside, his large palm smoothing over everything on the outside. Elijah’s free hand, the one wedged beneath Orlando and clutching his back, scrabbles for any kind of grip, and the skin on Elijah’s pale chest has bloomed with color and his nipples are pulling taut and he can’t keep his eyes open anymore and, oh man, he’s… just…coming… 

After a moment, Orlando withdraws his hand and wipes it against the million-count sheet. “That was lovely,” he smiles, kissing each orb of Elijah’s closed eyes, and Elijah grunts in exhausted agreement, his fingers loose around his quietly pulsing cock. 

Orlando gently pulls away and grabs a pillow from the headboard. He slides it under Elijah’s ass and digs the lube out from beneath the sheets to prepare himself, kneeling back on his flanks between Elijah’s splayed legs and tugging at his hips until they abut his cock. He takes hold of himself, lines up and slowly pushes in, meeting no resistance. They both groan at the same time.

Orlando knows that he’s the only guy Elijah’s ever fucked and despite the multitude of offers, he hasn’t been with any other man since the crazy days of New Zealand. So when he meets the delicious silky heat of Elijah’s body, his heart and his breath lock tight and he can only hang his head and wait for the moment to pass into something that doesn’t threaten to end things before they’ve even begun. 

Elijah stretches his arms up under the pillows above him, smiling, contentedly fucked out and he hooks his heels behind Orlando’s back, nudging him forward. “You still with me?” he croons. 

“Yeah,” Orlando exhales, slowly beginning to rock. “I had forgotten how good you feel.” He leans forward, completely changing his angle and settles with his elbows bracketing Elijah’s shoulders, Elijah’s heels riding high up his back. He leans down, searching for Elijah’s pliant all-fucked-out mouth and he gets lost there amidst the roll of tongues and breathy whispers. His hands come together at Elijah’s forehead, petting his hair back so that he can look into his eyes.

He is constantly surprised by how blue they are, how familiar and captivating, how deeply they can see into him. He has forgotten that being this close to Elijah is like returning home, like falling into a safety net, like sinking into dearly-held remembrances of things past. He slams his hips forward once, twice, thinking that he could go on and on like this forever, gazing upon him, and so he is surprised but not unpleasantly so when his orgasm suddenly washes through him in long drawn out pulses that never want to end. 

He sighs and slowly collapses, a mouth brushing his ear. “That was lovely too,” he hears.

*

“You’ve been racking up the air miles following the band around,” Orlando says a little while later when they’re relishing the afterglow. Except it’s really code for _How are things going with the girlfriend?_

Elijah looks directly at him. “Don’t,” he says seriously, quietly. “Don’t bring her into our bed.” At the very least, he will give respect where it’s due. 

And there’s no code for that statement. Orlando understands the disquiet, the guilt. It wasn’t so long ago he wore the other shoe. He smiles, close-mouthed, and nods, kissing Elijah’s brow. 

“Besides,” Elijah adds with a grin to break the silence that threatens to swallow them, “Who the fuck are you to talk?” and he swats at Orlando. “According to the press, you’re bedding half of Hollywood.”

“Ahhh,” Orlando chuckles and rolls onto his back, bringing Elijah on top of him. “What can I say? I’ve got the magic.” He tucks in his chin and looks down at Elijah, who is smiling like a crazy fuck. “All lies, sadly. Except for, maybe…”

“Don’t. Wanna. Know.” Elijah punctuates each word with a playful stab to Orlando’s chest, then pushes up onto all fours and straddles him. “Let’s try on your pants.”

*

They’re standing in the bathroom, one behind the other and twins in dress only, Elijah peeking over Orlando’s shoulder to study their reflection in the mirror. “What do you think?” Orlando asks, loosening the draw string so that the pants ride a little lower.

“Maybe a tad short,” Elijah observes, which is somewhat of an understatement since they hang like clam diggers. “There aren’t a lot of six foot Moroccan belly dancers.”

“Besides that. I can roll them.”

“Well, are they snug anywhere else?” Elijah asks, but he’s already sliding his hand around Orlando’s hip and dipping beneath the overlap to check out the lay of the land. Orlando sucks in a sharp breath, eyes hugely round, and grabs at his wrist, stilling it. “Seems fine,” Elijah says, kissing his shoulder.

*

Late that night, as the mid-Atlantic surf ebbs and breaks on the shore below, two pairs of newly-washed harem pants, tethered by champagne cork wire to the frond of a towering tree fern, flutter in the breeze of the offshore trades, their legs wrapping and unwrapping endlessly.


End file.
